


Giving Me Excitations

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boners, M/M, Teasing, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma's BFF Louis joins the family on a beach weekend. Harry likes him <i>so much</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Me Excitations

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Giving me exciations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478712) by [Lethkisslou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethkisslou/pseuds/Lethkisslou)



> from this anon prompt (for the home prompts meme) left in my inbox on tumblr: '16 year old harry is enamoured with 18 year old louis, maybe louis is gemma's bff?
> 
> [things this is not: british, betaed, smutty, a masterpiece
> 
> things this is: short, hopefully fun, my entree back into writing regularly]

_"So hot that I couldn't take it..."_

 

 

Louis leans forward in his seat and the motion rubs the tips of the fine hair on his arm against Harry’s own. Harry shivers.

 _Your mom is in the front seat. Robin is driving,_ he thinks. _Don’t pop a boner._

His dick behaves, for now.

Why had his mom insisted on making this a road trip? Sure, it was only a six hour drive to the beach, but it would have been an hour flight.

And Harry wouldn’t have to spend the whole of it breathing in Louis Tomlinson’s woodsy cologne or feeling his laugh- so close to Harry’s ear- vibrate through his own body.

This is it. The worst day of his life. He will have to stoop to beating off in the tiny toilet stall of a rest stop because continuously touching Louis Tomlinson has made him so hard he can’t carry on coherent conversations with his mother and step-dad and sister.

“Louis, would you sit still? I swear to god your wriggling ass is his making it hotter in here,” Gemma says from Louis’ other side. She’s fanning herself with a magazine and glaring at him.

“Sorry,” Louis says, reaching up to brush a lock of hair that’s begun to stick to his forehead. “It’s hard to get comfortable.”

Harry closes his eyes and counts his breath, a technique his basketball coach had taught him for focusing before a game, to bring himself fully into the present moment.

 _One_ \- breath in- _two_ -breath out- _three_ \- breath in- _four_ \- breath out.

It has the opposite effect that Harry hopes though, because in this particular ‘present moment’ Louis rests his hands on the tops of his thighs, hiking up his basketball shorts, just a touch, so that one less layer of fabric separates the skin of their knees.

Family road trips should not be erotic experiences. Harry needs a distraction.

He reaches into the front pocket of the backpack tucked between his legs and digs out his phone.

He’s flipping through a group chat he’s got going with Niall and Liam when he realizes Louis is reading over his shoulder. He feels himself go hot even though there’s nothing particularly embarrassing in it- just a screenshot of Liam’s latest Minecraft score and Niall’s breakfast at various stages of consumption.

Louis hisses softly, “You were about to sext, huh?”

“No,” Harry replies. He wasn’t- he wouldn’t- not with Louis reading over his shoulder and his whole family _right there_.

“Is that a girl you’re texting? Gonna send her a crotch shot?” Louis croons, loud enough now for everyone to hear.

Harry knows Louis can see plainly that it isn’t.

“No,” Harry insists. “Look, it’s Niall and Liam. Those aren’t, like, code names or anything. They’re my friends. I wouldn’t, like...”

“Chill, bro,” Louis says, laying a hand on Harry’s leg. “I’ve just heard things about you and the ladies. Thought I might be about to witness your- what do you boys call it? Your ‘game’?”

Harry clicks his phone screen black and frowns out the window to watch green fields whip past.

But after a moment he gives in. “What have you heard? I mean, about me and the ladies?” He tries to keep his voice low, but the car is not that big. He’s sure his mom and Robin are listening.

Louis shrugs, a motion which brushes their arms against each other again. This time Harry breaks out in goosebumps.

He should have brought a pillow. For his lap.

“Just that you’re a regular Romeo.”

Gemma laughs. Because, of course, she’s listening, too. “I’ve told you, Louis. All that stuff is made up by the other boys. Harry’s as innocent as a toddler. He’s never even been on a date.”

Harry squirms. That’s not strictly true.

But he’s also not the player everyone seems to think he is at school.

“You _haven’t_ been on a date, have you, sweetie?” his mom chimes in. “You promised you’d let me know.”

Harry looks down. The tops of his arms are flushed, meaning his face is probably beet red.

Louis leans closer. His lips actually touch Harry’s ear when he whispers, “I see how it is. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Harry opens his mouth and then looks down. Crap. There it is. An erection.

He looks over at Louis to see if he’s noticed. His gaze is on Harry’s face, thank god, and he’s waggling his eyebrows.

“Like,” Harry says and then stops. “Okay.”

Louis grins and licks his lips. They glint pink in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the front windshield.

Twisting forward, Louis announces, “Gonna be a fun weekend.”

~

Harry tosses his football from hand to hand, walking toward where Louis and Gemma are already laying out, colorful towels spread wide on the sand.

Louis hoists himself up onto his elbows. “You look hot.”

Harry reaches up to touch his hair, practically dripping with sweat from his run. “Well,” he says, fingers returning to tighten on the bumpy leather of the ball. “So do you.”

Louis licks his lips. “Thanks.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. “I wasn’t- I mean, it’s hot out! Everyone looks hot.”

“Ah,” Louis drawls. “I was talking about those shorts. Nobody’s confused about why you’re out here.”

Harry looks down at the tiny yellow shorts that he’d worn for his run. He can see the clear outline of his own cock and balls. _Shoot_.

It’s not- Harry’s not _embarrassed_ of his body. He’d go naked to the beach if he didn’t think his mom would disown him for it.

It’s just, well...

It’s _Louis._

“Oh, leave him alone,” Gemma says. “He’s had those shorts since he was a kid. It’s not about picking up chicks. How many times do I have to tell you? Harry’s still a baby.”

Harry pouts. He’s not a baby.

“I’m going for a swim,” he announces.

“There’s a bunch of _ladies_ in bikinis about a hundred yards thataway,” Louis gestures. “You should go splash around by them, if you know what I mean.”

“Louis!” Gemma says.

Harry juts out his chin and shakes his head, dropping the football before turning and heading toward the ocean. In the opposite direction of the ‘ _ladies_ in bikinis.’

~

The cold water had been helpful- an effective boner killer- while Harry was in it, not so much once he’s out. He’d have thought that with the light breeze and his shorts sticking uncomfortably to his thighs, he wouldn’t have to worry about his crotch situation getting too out of control.

But Louis’ skin is sparkling, like he’s covered in cooking oil and glitter, and Harry can’t look anywhere else.

He picks up his football again and throws it straight up into the air, refocusing. Or trying to.

“Do you guys wanna play catch?”

 _Great. Awesome idea, Harry. Create a situation in which Louis’ rippling muscles are on display. What a great distraction from how hot Louis is_.

“No. Hate sports,” Louis replies.

“In my entire eighteen years of life have I _ever_ played catch with you?” Gemma asks.

Harry glares at her. She has. Like, when-

He’s sure she has. He just can’t remember it right now.

Louis’ comment is easier to disprove. “You took the varsity soccer team to states this year. You singlehandedly scored like a third of the goals for the whole team.”

Louis’ body stretches, his toes digging into the sand. Harry’s eyes snag on Louis’ crotch as they travel back up to his face. Is he half-hard? Louis’ blue swim trunks aren’t nearly as revealing as Harry’s own shorts, but Harry thinks he might be.

_Why._

And _why_ can’t Harry make himself stop thinking about it. About Louis’ possible boner. Just feet away from-

“You pay attention,” Louis says. And then, licking his lips (they’re going to get sunburned and Harry thinks about offering him chapstick- that would be sort of like _kissing-_ Louis’ lips where his have just been- but he doesn’t actually have any here at the beach), Louis adds, “Soccer is refined. European. Not like whatever beastly bullshit you all do with that pig’s bladder.”

Again, Harry tosses the football into the air and then catches it. “This is not a pig’s bladder. No one uses those anymore.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Come on,” Harry presses. He’s bored and he doesn’t have anyone else to play with. That’s why he wants Louis to get up. It doesn’t have anything to do with wanting Louis to look at him, talk to him, pay attention to him. “If it’s cause you’re not any good, that doesn’t matter. I actually suck at sports.”

“You were captain of both the JV basketball team and the JV football team. Obviously, you don’t suck.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m not terrible, okay. But if I was really good, I wouldn’t even be on JV, at all. I’m clumsy and don’t have any of the right muscles. Come on, play with me.”

Louis shifts his sunglasses up onto his head. He already has racoon eyes and Harry almost giggles, but then Louis’ gaze is moving up and down his body and all he can think is- _I’m about to be hard, his eyes are on my dick and I’m… yeah, I’m hard._

“I think your muscles are just fine,” Louis says, hoisting himself up and reaching out to smack Harry’s dick. “Specially, that one.”

Harry squawks, wincing a little. Louis’d missed his balls, mostly.

 

Harry tries to readjust his dick, harder now than before Louis’d touched it, of course, and doesn’t stop watching Louis.

“Come on, you’re not doing anything. You’ll tan more evenly standing up,” he says, even though he has no idea if either statement is true.

Louis nods into the distance and Harry turns to see that he’s looking at group of four or five guys, all big and buff, definitely several years older than they are. “I’ll play, if you get them to play with us.”

“Lou,” Gemma says. “Do not use my little brother as your wingman.”

“Psshh,” Louis says. “Those guys are definitely straight. Not interested in me. You, on the other hand…” He trails off.

Gemma sits up and takes a long look at the guys. “Whatever.”

Harry turns back around to take a second look. They’re _all_ cute. No denying that.

Louis gets to his feet and places a palm flat between Harry’s shoulder blades. His skin is warm and dry and Harry wants his hand to move lower. Into Harry’s ear, he whispers, “Go get them. I’ll repay the favor when we go out tonight.”

Harry turns his head. They’re so close. Harry’s not going to pull away- he’s not. “We’re going out tonight?”

Louis laughs. “Of course.” He reaches down to swat at Harry’s ass. “Go get ‘em, bro.”

Harry obliges, heading down the beach, even though he doesn’t really want to. Because, _okay_ , he can admit it, the whole point of convincing Louis to play catch had been to capture Louis’ attention for himself. Now, he’ll have to compete with a bunch of _college boys._

~

Harry manages to convince the guys to play a pick-up game- they just happened to have forgotten their frisbee back in their suite- but it doesn’t last long. After the first set of downs, the bikini chicks Louis’d noticed earlier migrate over to watch, one even joining in to make a graceful catch.

The game deteriorates to catcalls and flirting, the whole group moving into the ocean to splash around, leaving Harry and Louis alone with the football.

This does not stop Louis from teasing Harry about his apparent talent for picking up older women until, riled up from Louis’ goading and his earlier run and the football game and the rush of the ocean in his ears, Harry tackles Louis hard onto the sand.

Of course, that’s how his mom finds them, rolling around on top of each other trying to stuff sand down each other’s shorts. At least, that’s what Harry tries to tell himself Louis’ hand was doing in there.

Because they’re on a public beach. And, as far as Harry can tell, Louis thinks he’s Gemma’s straight, bro-y, baby brother.

That becomes more difficult to believe, though, when, ten minutes later, as they’re walking toward the hotel to change for dinner, Louis hangs back, falling in step with Harry. He puts his mouth so, _so_ close to Harry’s ear (for like the eighteenth time this trip, _goodness_ ), and says, “Looks like you might have a problem to take care of in the shower.”

His gaze is trained on Harry’s dick, which, lo and behold, is getting harder by the second. Again.

Harry flicks him in the shoulder.

Louis laughs, “Don’t get mad at _me_ , bro.”

~

Harry does not get off in the shower because just as he’s reaching down and soaping up his cock- it’d only take two minutes tops, he’s sure- Gemma’s voice reminds him through the door that they only have a forty minutes to get ready and both she and Louis want to clean up, too.

It’s good thing in the end because they’re still fifteen minutes late.

(Harry suspects Louis _had_ himself jerked off in the shower. Like, what else could he have been doing with the water running for _twenty_ minutes. Louis’ hair is shorter than Harry’s and Harry can be in and out in three minutes and forty-five seconds.)

As they take their seats at the fancy restaurant in the hotel lobby, his mom says, “If you kids had been three minutes later, we would have lost our reservation, I swear. Who do you all think you’re dressing up for?”

She’s smiling though and Harry only half believes her exasperation.

~

The whole family stops outside the ‘kid room’- where he and Gemma and Louis are sleeping- after ice cream and a sunset walk on the beach.

“Now, don’t stay up too late. Harry, we talked about you getting some practice highway driving on the way home tomorrow. And Gemma,” his mom says, voice turning stern, “Robin and I will see it on the bill if you open anything in that minibar.”

Harry knows for a fact that Gemma and Louis have about twenty-five airplane-sized bottles of liquor stashed in their suitcases. They don’t _need_ the minibar. But he keeps his mouth shut in hopes that they’ll share. He doesn’t want to be left in the room by himself watching reruns of Friends in his underwear while they’re out _doing things_.

Not that that would be terrible. It’s just, Harry wants to be _doing things,_ too, with _Louis_.

“I’m so glad you’re here to keep these guys in line, Louis,” his mom is saying. “You’re such a good kid. I don’t know why these ones can’t behave better.”

Harry almost laughs. He and Gemma had covered Louis’ ass just two minutes ago when Louis’d pressed all the buttons in the elevator, claiming between giggles they’d done it instead, _sorry, Mom_.

Harry kisses his mother’s cheek and then ducks inside the room, Louis and Gemma close behind.

Starfishing onto the nearest bed (Gemma’s), Harry says, “Mom isn’t stupid. I don’t know how you convinced her that you’re some kind of angel when you’re actually the devil.”

Louis perches next to Harry, his ass pressed against Harry’s shin. Not that Harry cares where his ass is or anything.

“Take it back,” Louis says, poking Harry’s stomach, cool finger on bare skin where Harry’s shirt has ridden up. “Or else I won’t tell you what room the party is in.”

Harry closes his eyes. “What party? You heard my mom.” He tries to sound irritated, but he can feel himself smiling.

“The guys we met on the beach today are staying in a suite on the top floor and I overheard them invite those chicks up for a party after ten tonight. Don’t you want me to repay the favor?”

“Repay him? For what?” Gemma’s fishing through her suitcase, top from dinner off, in only her bra. She pulls out a gauzy black shirt and holds it up to her chest. They’re definitely going, then. If Gemma says it’s so, then it’ll be so.

“Oh, you know, things,” Louis says, his fingers are still on Harry’s bare belly and their dancing tickles, but in a good, shivery kind of way. “And stuff.”

Harry’s glad the jeans he’s got on hold his dick fast as it fattens. It’s slightly less noticeable than the tenting of his swim shorts. He hopes.

~

This is by far the _best_ party Harry has ever been to and that’s saying something because, as he’s just told Louis, he went to three parties in the month of June alone. That’s a lot of parties for a sophomore, really it is. So, okay, only one of them involved drinking and none had featured this _banging_ music, but Harry’d been to many parties before June, too.

The point is, Harry _knows_ a good party.

And this is better than a good party. This is a _perfect_ party.

The music is _so_ loud, it feels like it’s literally bumping from inside him, each note zipping up his spine, the base thumping in exactly the same rhythm as his heart.

Also, he’s had _four_ drinks, which is a lot. He’s had four drinks before- but just beer and over a much longer night.

Louis’d suggested they each start with two tiny bottles of vodka before they’d even left their own hotel room and Harry’s now on his third whatever the hell is in this red cup.

The alcohol might have something to do with his good mood; it probably explains why the room has a hazy, hot glow to it.

But, also, Louis is sitting next to him on the loveseat, their legs pressed together hip to knee and he’s been there all night, despite the room being packed with beautiful, older people.

He might be trying to protect Harry, which is very chivalrous of him.

Louis is the greatest person in the world. And Harry _knows_ about great people. He’s known so many great-

“Those girls are gorgeous, don’t you think?” Louis asks, leaning into Harry, cutting off his rambling thoughts.

Harry follows his gaze to a group of three women talking to each other and swaying a little bit to the music. They all have long wavy hair, tiny colorful dresses, and shiny, sun-browned skin.

“Wow,” Harry replies. “So pretty. The prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.”

“You want to go talk to them?” Louis asks.

“Do _you_?” Harry asks, turning to him, confused. People talk to strangers at parties to hook up- at least in movies, they do- and Louis is _gay_ , Harry knows that. Everyone knows that.

“I mean, I told you I’d return the favor,” Louis says, eyebrows going up and down and up and down. They’re beautiful eyebrows, delicate and perfectly arched. “I want to help you get some action.”

“Did _you_ get some action?” Harry asks. Had he somehow snuck away with one of the guys from the beach? It doesn’t seem possible. The only time he’s been out of Harry’s sight since then was when he was in the shower and Harry really doesn’t think he snuck some random guy into their hotel shower. Although, that would explain why he’d taken so-

“You know, so that you can hook up with one of them?” Louis presses.

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t want to hook up with one of them.”

“You just said they were the prettiest girls you’d ever seen.” He looks at Harry, eyes narrowing to slits. “Is Gemma right? Are you _that_ innocent after all? You’re nervous about hooking up?”

Harry shakes his head, hard, and the room spins. “I’ve made out with Jenna, Eva, Matt, Steven. _And_ I fingered Eva _and_ I gave Matt a blowjob, which he _really_ liked. So I’m not a total virgin. I love hooking up. It’s the best.”

“Wow, that’s a lot more information than you probably want me to have.” Louis tilts his head and Harry thinks he might be about to scoot away which is the opposite of what Harry wants him to do.

So Harry scoots closer, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck and situating himself mostly in Louis’ lap. “Wrong. I want you to know all about that. Because I want to hook up with you, too.”

“No, Harry,” Louis warns, his hands settling on Harry’s waist.

Harry wiggles his ass and then grins broadly when he confirms his suspicion. “You want to hook up with me, too. You’ve got a boner.”

Louis shakes his head and his fringe brushes Harry’s cheek. “You don’t actually want to hook up with me. If I say yes, you’ll be mad at me tomorrow.”

“I won’t be mad tomorrow. I like you.” Because he does. He’s liked Louis for a _long_ time.

“Hooking up with people you don’t actually like can seem like a good idea when you’re drunk but....” Louis trails off. He isn’t pushing Harry away, which is the important thing. Harry just has to make him _believe._

“You’re, like, the best person I know. The funniest. The smartest.”

“The smartest? Really?” Louis asks, tilting his head.

Actually, Harry thinks, that might not be true.

“I guess Gemma is pretty smart, don’t you think? She helped me a lot with Geometry this year. I haven’t thanked her…. I should thank her. Let’s go thank her.”

“I thought you wanted to hook up with me,” Louis reminds him.

Harry does want that. In fact, that sounds so much better than finding Gemma. Louis’ lips are super close to Harry’s and they’re shiny. They would feel slippery and taste delicious.

“Your lips are very red. You should have put sunscreen on them.”

Harry reaches up to touch them and Louis breathes out, a hiss of heat against Harry’s thumb. Harry drops his hand and meets Louis’ eyes.

“Just five minutes ago you told me you thought they were the most beautiful lips in the whole world,” Louis says.

“They _are_! That’s why you have to protect them. I should protect them. I know! I probably have some sunscreen left on my lips and if you kiss me, then it will be on your lips and your lips will be _safe_.”

Louis is beaming at him and Harry feels like he must be doing something right, though he has no idea what.

After a moment, Louis shakes his head. “We should get you to bed.”

Harry’s never heard a better idea. “You have the best ideas. You should always give me ideas. All the time.”

Louis pats Harry’s arm and then hoists himself up off the couch, Harry’s sliding off his lap with a jolt. After brushing himself off, Louis extends a hand to Harry.

“You want to hold my hand?” Harry asks, blinking up at him.

Louis shakes his head. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

Harry shakes his own head. The room spins a bit. Again. “ _You_ ’ _re_ drunk,” he tells Louis, reaching out to clasp Louis’ still outstretched hand.

Louis’ palm is a little damp, but his grip is firm and Harry finds himself pulled up to his feet. “What’s happening?”

“We’re going to bed,” Louis reminds him.

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. Then he remembers something important. “Where’s Gemma?”

Louis is dragging him towards the door to the suite.

“She went back to the room a while ago,” Louis tells Harry. “This isn’t really her scene, after all.”

Harry moves closer to Louis. He wants to put his arms around Louis’ waist, hug him from behind. So he does.

Into Louis’ neck, he sighs, “You’re my scene.”

Louis reaches around to pat him on the shoulder. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, rubbing his nose against the fine hair on Louis’ nape. It’s silky and tickles a bit, though not nearly as much as the throaty laugh Louis lets out. Harry is in heaven. Tonight is the best night ever.

~

“Now,” Louis whispers, pressing his key card up against the lock. “You have to be quiet.”

“Okay,” Harry says, trying to match his tone. “I’ll be very quiet.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis replies. “ _Shhhh!_ ”

“You _shhhhh_ ,” Harry tells him. Louis is very bossy. Harry likes it, though.

“You’re gonna wake your parents up and they’re going to never let me speak to you or Gemma ever again.”

Harry pouts. That sounds terrible, possibly the very worst thing that could happen. Ever.

Louis opens the door and pushes Harry into the room. A wall of heat hits him and he immediately begins to sweat.

“Thank fuck, Gemma’s got her earbuds in. Jesus.” Louis walks across the room, leaving Harry to stand in the entryway by himself. Harry doesn’t like that at all and follows Louis.

Harry puts his chin on Louis’ shoulder while Louis fiddles with something on the wall. “Your drunken sister must’ve stupidly turned the air conditioner all the way off when she got in. It couldn’t have been _that_ cold in here. Jesus _fuck_. She turned on the heat _._ ”

“It’s not cold now,” Harry says, pulling away from Louis to take off his shirt. Once it’s over his head, he sees that Louis is facing him, eyes heavy on his bare chest. Louis is probably hot, too.

“You need to take your shirt off,” Harry says, reaching out to help, tugging at his hem. “It’s too hot for shirts.”

Louis begins to say, “I don’t think,” but he doesn’t finish the sentence and he doesn’t stop Harry from moving even closer and pulling the shirt over the top of his head.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the couch tonight. You should sleep on the bed with me,” Harry tells him, running a hand down the center of his chest. Louis’ skin is smooth, almost hairless, and so _warm._

“Won’t that be too hot?” Louis asks. He’s wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrist and Harry thinks for a second he might be trying to lift Harry’s hand, to move it away, but then he leaves his fingers still. They look like a bracelet.

Harry has to shake his head to remember what they are talking about. Everything whirls around him dizzily, but he remembers. Sleeping. Louis sleeping beside Harry. In his bed. How hot it’ll be.

“Hot in a good way. The _best_ way,” Harry says. He flexes his fingers, digging them into the flesh of Louis’ belly and Louis gasps.

“Fucking _shit,”_ Louis hisses.

“Just like your ass is hot in a good way,” Harry continues.

“You are too fucking drunk to be having this conversation. Let’s wait until you’re sober, and then see if you still want to talk about my ass. For now, let’s get you settled into bed,” Louis says. He sounds so teacherly, so grown-up. Harry likes it and he hates it.

“You have to get in with me or I won’t go,” Harry tells him. “I’ll stand here all night.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mutters and, fingers still wrapped tightly around Harry’s wrist, he pulls him into the tiny bathroom.

Harry watches Louis fill a glass with water. He hands it to Harry. “Drink.”

Again with the bossing. Harry smiles and does as he says.

Louis fills another glass of water and downs it himself. A drop escapes to drip down his chin and Harry watches in fascination as it slides down his neck and chest.

“Here,” Louis says, hand out. “Let me get you another.”

“I don’t want another,” Harry tells him. “I’m full.” His belly feels a little swollen. He doesn’t know if he could fit anything else into it.

“Trust me,” Louis says, filling the glass. “You want another. And maybe another after that. It’ll pay off in the morning.”

Louis is older and more experienced and so so so beautiful, even in the shadowy bathroom. Harry takes the second glass and drinks it down. And the third.

He follows Louis back into the main room and watches as he strips down to his boxers, lays out on the couch and pulls a blanket over himself.

After a moment, Louis says, “Fucking hell, Harry. Get into bed. I know you’re exhausted.”

“I was serious,” Harry says, his dizziness beginning to subside a little. “I’ll stand here all night unless you get into bed with me.”

“Fine,” Louis huffs. “Stand there all night. See if I care.”

Harry hears Louis flip over once, twice, three times, and knows he’s already won. He can out stubborn everyone, even his own mother.

Still, his feet are starting to hurt and his whole body feels heavier than it’s ever felt when Louis pulls the blanket down to his waist and says, “Are you still just standing there?”

“I want you to come to bed with me,” Harry tells him, again. “I’ll keep standing here until you do.”

That’s probably true. Unless he falls over onto the floor.

“Jesus- god- fucking-”

Louis swears a lot when he’s drunk, Harry realizes, smiling to himself. Every time he says “fucking” Harry shivers. He wonders if he’d swear like that with Harry’s mouth around his dick.

Probably. But, also, maybe Harry should try it and find out.

He might have a chance, too, because Louis is climbing off the couch and walking toward him. And then, without warning, he pushes Harry back onto the bed, knocking the wind out of him.

Gasping, Harry says, “You like it rough.”

“You,” Louis tells him, “are going to sleep. I will lay down beside you for five minutes to shut you up but no fucking funny business.”

Slowly Louis sits down on the other side of the bed and then stretches himself out next to Harry, leaving several inches between them.

Harry closes the distance immediately. Being so close but not touching is painful, like holding apart two powerful magnets.

“Nope,” Louis says, disentangling them with matching speed. “You’re too shitfaced for cuddling.”

Harry tries to scoot closer again. “ _You’re_ too shitfaced for cuddling.”

“Sure,” Louis agrees and Harry realizes what he’s said.

“I don’t want to cuddle. I just want to spoon you while we’re both naked. That’s it.”

“Harry,” Louis’ voice is dark.

“I think that’s a good idea.” He’s tracing the lines of muscle on Louis’ chest and stomach and Louis isn’t stopping him. The only problem is Harry’s hands feel weighted, difficult to move.

“Here’s a good idea: you sleep under the covers and I sleep on top of the covers and we don’t touch.”

Louis has a boner. Harry can see the shadow of it tenting his boxers. He can’t possibly think those are good ideas.

Harry whines, the words falling slow and stilted, “It’s too hot for covers.”

“I just turned on the air,” Louis tells him, but he’s climbing beneath the blankets himself which doesn’t seem like a good sign. Harry is having trouble protesting, though.

He’s having trouble thinking at all. It’s as though his thoughts have become as heavy as his limbs. He just needs to set them down a second for a quick rest. Then he can…

~

Harry wakes up twice in the night. The first time he’s freezing and his bladder is throbbing. Louis is asleep beside him, breathing evenly when Harry climbs out of bed to use the toilet and huffing lightly when he climbs back in a moment later, pulling the covers close around them both.

The second time he wakes, Harry has to pee again and his head hurts a little. The room is lighter, but it’s not quite morning yet. He finds that a bottle of aspirin has magically appeared on the counter next to the sink and downs a couple with one glass of water and then another.

Louis remains asleep in the bed, still several painful inches away. Harry does not close them, though he’s tempted. He hopes Louis will be there the next time he opens his eyes.

~

The third time Harry awakens, he’s facing Louis, still not touching, but their noses are very, _very_ close. He scoots back a smidge for a better view.

Tucked into the neckline of Louis’ shirt is piece of paper with the hotel’s logo on it. Gemma’s loopy handwriting reads, _Louis, he’s my little brother. Be nice. Be good. I know where you live. -G_

Harry rolls over and checks his phone. _9am._ Louis’d been right. The water had helped a lot. His stomach is a little wobbly but his head feels a-okay.

He’s got a text from Gemma. _You have until 9:30 to straighten yourselves out. I’ll tell mom and dad you’re sleeping through breakfast, but then I’m coming back to pack, probably with Mom. Do not embarrass yourselves._

He’s got a half an hour. He rolls back over meaning to shake Louis awake, only to find that Louis’ eyes are already open and he’s watching Harry, chewing his lip, jaw tucked back toward his neck.

“Good morning,” Harry says. He sounds like he’s swallowed one of the little jars of seashells they sell as souvenirs in the lobby of the hotel.

“Good morning,” Louis replies. His voice is rough, too, but prettier than Harry’s, like one of those wooden instruments with carefully hewn ridges up and down its length. He does not smile in return.

The unpleasant rumbling in Harry’s tummy increases, but he holds Louis’ gaze fast.

“You didn’t leave me,” Harry says.

“You were very drunk. I’m sorry.” Louis’ eyes are wide. He’s worried, Harry realizes.

“I’m not going to barf on you. You were right about the water.” Harry wants to reach out and touch him so badly. It’s those damn magnets again, drawing him in. He resists.

“You almost didn’t listen,” Louis tells him. He’s smiling a little, now. Finally.

“You weren’t meeting me halfway. You wouldn’t get naked or sleep with me or let me kiss you.”

So that’s out there now. Harry doesn’t regret it. He meant to say it. It’s true.

Louis blinks at Harry for a moment and then his gaze sharpens to a squint. “Listen bro, I’m down to my underwear _and_ I’m in bed with you. What more do you want?”

Harry swallows. His mouth is dry and his breath tastes sour. He goes for it anyway. “A kiss.”

One of Louis’ brows go up. “I thought you were into the ladies.”

Harry bites his lip gradually increasing the pressure until it hurts. He’s sure last night he’d told Louis just the opposite. Then, slowly, he says, “I’m into you.”

“You look like you want to kill me,” Louis tells him, “not kiss me. Chill.”

Harry does not chill. Harry leans forward and presses their lips together.

Louis doesn’t back away or sit up or roll off the bed. No, he lifts one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the top of Harry’s nape, tugging him closer and sending shivers down his spine. His lips are rough, chapped from the sunburn, but his mouth is open and wet.

Harry slots a leg between the two of Louis’ and there it is- Louis’ boner, hard against his thigh. Harry’s _finally_ touching it.

He pulls back from the kiss. “I knew you wanted me. I knew it. You don’t think I’m a baby, no matter how many times Gemma says it. I knew it.”

Louis purses his lips. “Don’t get cocky. Happens every morning, _bro_.” But then he leans in to recapture Harry’s lips and Harry knows he’s right.

Louis wants him.

“I want you, too,” Harry tells him. “I think you’re the most gorgeous boy in our whole school. Whenever you hang around our house in your sweats, I try to see if I can pick out the outline of your dick. Which I have because-” he presses his thigh against Louis’ erection “-you’re really big.”

“That’s probably sexual harassment,” Louis replies, leaning in for another kiss.

Harry squirms away. “You’re always teasing me about girls and stuff. _That’s_ sexual harassment.”

Louis reaches down under the blankets and into Harry’s underwear, palming Harry’s dick with a firm squeeze. “Now _this_ is sexual harassment.”

Harry groans. “I don’t really feel harassed.”

Louis begins to tug at him with rough, dry strokes. “No?”

Harry whines. “You’re amazing. Keep doing that.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks. “You like this? You think I’m good?”

The questions float past Harry, wispy like clouds; he can’t grasp them before they disappear.

The heat of Louis’ palm, the wet hiss of Louis’ breath in his ear, the smooth rub of skin where their bodies are pressed side by side- those sensations stick, clear and solid and real.

When he comes minutes later, it’s with a whine and sharp thrust of his hips.

Louis coos, “Shit.”

Harry opens his eyes to see Louis looking straight back at him, face flushed as hot as Harry feels, blue eyes wide, lips twitching upward in a sweet smile.

“You’re not as experienced as you pretend. You can’t be. That was too quick,” Louis says.

Harry’s jaw drops. “Hey.”

He flips the blankets down, eyes narrowing in on Louis’ tented boxers. He _is_ big, bigger than Harry expects, thicker than Harry himself, maybe. He takes a deep breath, and then scoots down the bed.

He holds Louis’ gaze as he leans over and mouths at Louis’ cock, feeling the smooth vein down down its center, hot through the thin fabric.

“Don’t judge me yet,” Harry says, lips still pressed tight to him.

Louis groans. “Fuck.”

Harry smiles to himself. Finally, _he_ gets to be the tease.

~

“I told you I could give a good blow job,” Harry says, pulling on his sweats a few minutes later.

“There’s room for improvement, I’d say,” Louis replies, not looking up from where he’s stuffing clothes into his duffle.

“Whatever.”

Louis shrugs. “You’ll just have to keep practicing. On me.”

Harry laughs. “Oh, I see. I have to keep giving you blow jobs. To improve my technique. I can return the favor, if you’d like. Let you practice on me.”

“That’s very generous of you, Styles,” Louis says.

Three knocks ring out on the door and then, “I’m coming in. You’d both better be decent.”

Then the door swings wide, and Gemma sweeps into the room, taking them in. She frowns. “You’re awake, dressed, _packing_. I thought-”

“What did you think?” Louis asks. “That I’d deflower your little brother? When you explicitly made me promise not to?”

“You what?!” Harry walks up to her and lifts his chin, trying to meet her gaze.

Glaring over Harry’s shoulder, she says to Louis, “That was two years ago.”

Gemma’s nose wrinkles. “It _does_ smell like dick in here.”

“Gee,” Louis says. “Wonder why.”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “You know who’s a good wingman? Me. You _both_ owe me.”

Harry sticks out his tongue at her.

“Put that away,” Gemma says.

“Why? You don’t want to think about where it’s been?” Louis asks, zipping his bag closed.

“Gross, both of you.”

Harry opens his mouth, but Gemma puts up her hand before he can get a word out to defend himself. “Before either of you say anything about whatever weird sex shit you want to discuss to make me uncomfortable, consider how much you want our parents to know about last night.”

Harry closes his mouth and then opens it again.

“I mean it, Harry,” Gemma says.

“I was just gonna say that it’s cold in here- like it was last night- and we might want to turn up the heat.”

“Like _someone_ did last night,” Louis adds, waggling his eyebrows.

Gemma lobs a pillow at him. And then another at Harry. “Fuck you both.”

They probably deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'good vibrations' by the beach boys. 
> 
> tumblr post [here](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com/post/144247780025/giving-me-excitations-by-juliusschmidt).


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